Existing In A Crisis
by Ashlyn Odette
Summary: Quinn loses her memory in a car accident, and Santana helps her remember, and rekindle their relationship. Romance, some smut maybe, fluff, multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I just watched The Vow, and I love this concept, so here's my take on this with lots of Quinntana. Basically, it's kinda A/U. I'm not really sure what to categorize it as because it's going to be when Quinn gets in her accident in On My Way, but the series of events is different (so don't get all defensive when things don't end up the same, or even in the same order.). Read, review, enjoy!**

They say the mind is a beautiful thing. It can create ideas, solve puzzles, and, most importantly, store memories.

You can look back and remember your fifth birthday party, or what you were wearing for your eighth grade yearbook photo, or what you had for lunch yesterday. But, it seems that we don't have conscious control over what we do, and don't remember. Still, we should be grateful for those memories because one day..

They could disappear.

Santana Lopez was sitting in front of her computer on a rainy Tuesday night, watching some ridiculous show that glorified fake tans, and slutty behavior. She was perched on the edge of her couch, as close as she could be to her crappy laptop speakers, when her phone started ringing. Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" bleated from the side table beside her couch. She picked her phone up and squinted at the caller ID on her small LCD screen. It was a number she didn't recognize, so she hit the end button and tossed it into the cushions in her couch, turning back to her computer screen. A minute later, her phone started ringing again.

"Jesus," She grumbled, rummaging around the pillows for her phone. She rolled her eyes when she saw it was the same number, but, reluctantly, paused the show on her computer and hit the accept button.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Miss Santana Lopez?" A squeaky voice sounded from the receiver.

"Yes. Who is this?" Santana shifted her weight on the couch, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear.

"This is Emma Johnson, from the Lima Hospital. We were just calling to inform you that Lucy Fabray has been in a serious accident."

_Lucy? Who the fuck is—Quinn. _Santana 's eyes widened a little, and she gripped her phone tightly.

"Is she okay? What happened? Wait, why are you calling _me_?"

"If you would come down to the hospital, we'll explain everything. And yes, she's undergoing surgery right now, but we think she'll be fine." Santana could hear alarms going off in the background, and the woman's voice suddenly became distressed, "Just come down Miss Lopez, and we can talk. I have to go."

And with that, the woman hung up.

Santana arrived at the hospital a few minutes later, pulling her jacket tight around her. It wasn't that chilly outside, but it was still the beginning of spring, and cold chill always seemed to spread through the town at night. A receptionist at the desk pointed her in the direction of ICU, and she walked up to Quinn's room, knocking lightly before going inside.

Inside the small room, Quinn was lying, sleeping, on the hospital bed. Her short blonde hair was tousled, and she had bandages and bruises on her face, but other than that she looked peaceful. Quinn's doctor turned around as Santana entered the room, smiling at her.

"Are you Santana?" Santana nodded, and took another step into the room.

"What happened?" The Latina gestured to Quinn's sleeping body. The doctor nodded once and offered a chair to Santana. Santana sat carefully, and crossed one leg over the other.

"It seems that Miss Fabray was on her way to her hotel room, and another car t-boned her. We know that she was texting and driving, and that's probably why she didn't see the other car. Luckily, the airbags deployed, and her seatbelt was on, so the main trauma she suffered was to her head. It bumped quite hard against the dashboard." Santana shook her head. There was one piece of this story that didn't make sense to her.

"Why was she even in Lima? Yale isn't on break. And, why did you call me? Where are her parents?" She looked over at Quinn, then back to the doctor.

"Her mother is on vacation in Europe, and her father fell off the grid years ago, it appears. We called you because _you_ were the person she was texting when she was hit."

Santana's face paled, and she looked down at the ground. _Why? Why would she be texting me? Why would she even be here! We haven't spoken since, well, the Sam thing. I thought I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with her. _

The doctor extended a small plastic bag toward her. Santana took it and unzipped it, pulling out Quinn's phone. The screen was cracked a little, but other than that it seemed to work perfectly fine. She unlocked the phone, and opened up the message that was meant for Santana.

'_Santana, I know you're mad. I'm mad too, not at you, of course. At myself. I was stupid and drunk, and I know I promised you that it would work. I'm in Lima for a few days. Can I see you? I still lov-'_

Santana's heart dropped a thousand feet into her stomach, and she could feel the edge of her eye start to well up with tears. She wiped at them absently, and kept staring at the draft on Quinn's phone until the doctor's voice snapped her out of it.

"The good news is, there isn't any long term physical damage." Santana looked up, dropping the phone back into her purse.

"The bad news?"

"The bad news is, she had serious neural damage. She woke up for a few minutes after her surgery, and we asked her the questions we ask every patient when they come in. What's your name, where do you live, where are you attending school, what's your mother's name? She couldn't remember any of it. Not a single thing."

Santana's breath caught in her throat. How could a person just forget everything about themselves?

"She can't remember _anything_?" Santana gripped the arm of the chair so tight, her knuckles turned white. At that moment, Quinn started to stir in her bed. Santana shot up out of the chair, and walked to the side of the bed, watching Quinn carefully.

Quinn's eyes opened slowly, revealing the hazel eyes that lured Santana in every time. There was a flurry of emotion in those eyes, a few seconds after she opened them, but that wasn't uncommon for Quinn. The blonde tried weakly to sit up, and the doctor quickly came to her aid.

"Hey, Q," Santana said softly, smiling slightly at Quinn. Quinn looked at her for a moment with a blank expression. Santana frowned and reached out to take Quinn's hand. Quinn jerked her hand away, frowning at Santana. "Quinn, do you remember who I am at all?" Quinn shook her head slowly, biting her bottom lip gently.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember anything. What happened? Who are you?" Quinn tilted her head, and Santana wondered why she wasn't freaked out. If Santana woke up with no memory of who she was, she'd be flipping shit.

"She's still a little sedated," The doctor said, as if reading Santana's mind. "It'll take a while before she's completely alert. I'll give you two a minute." The doctor fiddled around with a few of Quinn's exam papers before nodding at Santana and walking out the door. She waited until the door shut to turn back to Quinn.

Quinn was watching Santana intently, the expression unreadable behind her eyes. "So, who am I?" Quinn asked, twisting the paper bracelet on her wrist.

Santana exhaled loudly, before answering. "You're Lucy Quinn Fabray, you're a freshman at Yale, you graduated from William McKinley High School," Santana hesitated, watching Quinn take it all in. She didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Oh," Quinn replied softly. The blonde shut her eyes, leaning her head back into her pillow. There were a few minutes of silence before Quinn spoke again. "So, what about my parents?"

"Your mom is in Europe, traveling, and you're dad left when you got preg-, you're dad left when you were a sophomore."

"Then, what are you?" Santana watched as Quinn opened her eyes, looking straight into Santana's eyes.

What was Santana supposed to tell her? She couldn't just tell Quinn that she was her girlfriend, let alone the love of her life. Well, that last part might be a lie, considering Quinn had hooked up with Sam a few weeks before. Was she supposed to tell Quinn that when Santana had ended things with Brittany she thought she'd never love again, and there came Quinn? At least Quinn couldn't remember the hell the couple had faced dealing with Quinn's religious views. How was Santana supposed to lead up into the fact that the couple had made plans to elope after Quinn finished her first year, and Santana landed the spot on a New York based television show? There weren't enough words in Webster's dictionary for how she felt about Quinn. So….?

"I'm your friend, Quinn."


	2. Chapter 2 Trouble Is A Friend

**A****/N: Thanks for all your support, and all the favorites and stuff like that! It means a lot that people actually like what I'm writing. Especially since a lot of the stuff that is going to be coming up in the chapters is stuff that I'm dealing with personally. Obviously not my girlfriend losing her memory, but some of the stuff that Quinn and Santana say is really my personal issues coming through my writing, so. Yeah. Anyways, I'm going to start listing a couple of the songs that help me write each chapter for your listening enjoyment.**

**Trouble – Lenka**

**The Big Bang – Rock Mafia**

**1901 – Birdy**

**Bulls In The Bronx – Pierce The Veil**

**Crazy For You - Adele**

**Chapter 2: Trouble is a Friend.**

"_Trouble he will find you no matter where you go, oh oh._

_No matter if you're fast, no matter if you're slow, oh oh._

_The eye of the storm or the cry in the mourn, oh oh._

_You're fine for a while, but you start to lose control."_

A few sleepless nights later, Quinn had moved from the hospital to the guest bedroom inside Santana's small apartment. It was late Friday night and Santana had just finished making herself and Quinn a quick dinner. They had spent all day filling out Quinn's release papers and moving her luggage from the motel to her new room. Quinn's doctor had suggested Santana try and get a hold of Quinn's mother again, but Santana was putting it off, knowing that when she did, Quinn would be whisked away from her into a sea of doctors and relatives and Santana would be shut out.

Santana set a small bowl of soup down in front of Quinn, and leaned against the kitchen counter facing her, with her own bowl. The blonde hadn't said a word all day, and Santana wasn't going to try to push her. Even if Quinn couldn't remember it, silence was usually her way of dealing with things that were hard for her emotionally. Santana watched as Quinn pushed her spoon around her bowl absentmindedly. Normally if Quinn was this upset, Santana would reach out and play with one of Quinn's hand, singing an old nursery rhyme that was originally meant for feet. Normally, Quinn would yell at Santana for being annoying, but Santana knew she didn't mean it by the twinkle in her eyes. Normally they would kiss and then watch some crappy movie on TV.

Normally.

Santana couldn't take the silence anymore, she set her bowl down and leaned forward on the counter, her hands gripping the smooth edge.

"Okay, Q. What gives?" Santana didn't mean for the words to come out so sharp, so she tried a different approach when Quinn remained silent.

"Quinn, I know this is hard, but you have to talk sometime,"

Quinn looked up at Santana, a steely look in her eyes.

"Hard? Winning chess is hard. This isn't hard, this is _impossible._ How am I supposed to just waltz back into my own life, not knowing a thing about it?" Santana could see Quinn's knuckles turn white as she gripped the spoon harder.

"I don't know, Quinn. That's why you're here with me. I'm going to help you. You're going to be okay."

"Quinn," The blonde let out one monotone chuckle, and shook her head, "You would think I would remember my own name. I'm the strangest part about my own life right now. I'm a foreigner in my own body." Quinn sighed and bowed her head, staring down into her lap.

"It's like puberty all over again," Santana said weakly, attempting humor. Quinn smiled slightly, and looked back up at Santana.

"So, we're friends?" Quinn asked. Santana nodded and turned around to grab the picture she had framed of their vacation to the beach a few summers back, and handed it to Quinn.

"Best friends. We ruled the school together. You were head cheerleader, and I was your sidekick. That really pissed me off back then, always being second to you, but not anymore."

Quinn nodded and pushed her bowl away from her so she could study the picture more closely.

"Show me more," Quinn set the picture down and looked at Santana expectantly. Santana nodded and walked out of the kitchen, gesturing for Quinn to follow. Santana sat down on the couch in her living room and opened up her laptop, pulling up her photo albums. She clicked on one from their senior year of high school.

"This is me, you, and our other friend Brittany. We were best friends throughout high school, but me and her had a falling out, and now I haven't talked to her in a while. I heard she's doing well, though. Dancing on Broadway, or something." Quinn leaned down to get a better look at the screen, but Santana quickly moved on to the next picture. Things with her and Brittany were still too raw to discuss, and they were especially hard to talk about without giving away the fact that Santana was a certified lady-lover, and she didn't think Quinn could handle that piece of information yet.

The next picture was of the New Directions after they had won nationals, all their faces were red, and they looked exhausted, but Santana knew they hadn't felt any of that when they were holding that trophy. Santana pointed out everyone to Quinn, taking special care to tell each person's history with the blonde.

"That's Rachel Berry, she was way annoying and bossy, but she always managed to pull the glee club through, and keep us together. You hated her for a while, but somehow I think you guys managed to become friends," Santana paused, watching Quinn. "All these people loved you, through everything, and they're going to love the new you, too." Quinn was silent and she kept her eyes trained on that picture, as if trying to store every little detail of their faces into her new memory. Quinn did a small nod when she was ready to move on to the next picture, Santana complied and hit the next button, waiting for the picture to load.

Santana watched as Quinn's face came into focus on the screen. It was the picture that Santana took when they moved all of Quinn's stuff into her dorm at Yale. They had made an event of it, taking the long route across the country to the prestigious university. Both girls were trying not to ruin their mascara that day, because they knew that after that, they'd only see each other on an occasional weekend or during a holiday. After Santana had taken that picture, both girls lost it, clinging to each other for comfort, and crying even harder when the time made them have to separate. Santana kissed Quinn one last time, not pulling apart until both girls were light headed, and then she got in her car and drove away, leaving Quinn standing a step away from her dream, while Santana was going back home, away from hers.

Santana was pulled out of her reverie when she heard Quinn gasp softly. Santana looked over at Quinn and saw that her eyes had widened at whatever was on the screen. Santana looked down at her computer and jumped a little.

"Shit,"

While Santana was lost in her daydream, Quinn had gone forward a couple more pictures in the album and stumbled across a photo of her and Santana from one of their dates. They had gone to a fair and done all the cliché romantic things; Santana won Quinn a stuffed animal, they did the fun house, ate cotton candy, and…took a kissing picture at the top of the Ferris wheel.

Santana snatched the computer off the table, and shut it quickly, stuffing it behind one of the couch pillows. Quinn continued to stare at the spot where the computer had been, not saying anything.

"Quinn, I-I…" Santana started to explain, but Quinn cut her off.

"Was that me and you?" When Quinn turned to face Santana, she had expected anger in her eyes, but instead there was only confusion and a hint of curiosity.

"Yeah. We're kind of…dating." Santana said cautiously, gauging Quinn's reaction. "That's why you came back. We were fighting, and you came back to see me."

"Were we in love?" Santana grimaced a little, hearing Quinn say 'were'. It hadn't hit her until now that Quinn may never fall in love with her again. Santana swallowed hard before answering her.

"Yeah, we were."

Later that night Santana passed the door to the guest bedroom, where Quinn would be staying. After the whole picture debacle, Santana had left Quinn alone, only speaking to her when Quinn asked her a question.

Quinn was kneeling beside her bed, her head bowed and her eyes closed, her hands clasped in front of her. Santana leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Quinn was always religious, but her habits slipped when she started dating Santana. Quinn sensed Santana's presence and opened her eyes, lifting her head up. Santana's tan skin flushed with embarrassment when she remembered that she wasn't allowed to stare at Quinn that way anymore. Santana stepped inside the room nervously and laid a few leather bound books on Quinn's bed.

"These are your journals. It took me a hell of a long time to find them, since you hid them before you left." Quinn sat back on her heels to look at Santana.

"What's in them?" Quinn reached for one of the worn notebooks, running her pale hand over the binding.

"I don't know. I was never allowed to look in them," Santana shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, watching Quinn. "The one on top is blank. I bought it for you as a birthday present, but I think it'll do a lot more good now than later." Quinn nodded and moved to sit on her bed, flipping through the book she was holding. "Anyways, the bathroom and my bedroom are down the hall. Yell if you need anything, I guess." Santana turned to step out into the hall when Quinn's voice stopped her.

"I'm all alone."

Santana barely heard it, since it was so whisper like, but it made her turn around to look back at Quinn.

"I'm right down the hall, Q."

"I don't have any knowledge of myself. I couldn't tell you when my birthday is, or if I like strawberries, or even who I'm voting for in the next election." Quinn's eyes started to glaze over, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. Santana smiled slightly and moved to sit next to Quinn on the bed.

"October 14th, 1993, yes, and Mitt Romney, even though in my eyes he's just a devil with a microphone." Quinn let out a small laugh, and Santana wrapped an arm around Quinn, pulling her into her side. "I'm here to answer all your questions, Quinn. You're going to find yourself again, I promise." Santana kissed Quinn's temple lightly, and rubbed her arm soothingly. Quinn was silent for a moment before looking up at Santana.

"Stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone, and funny enough, you're the only thing I know right now." Santana inhaled deeply, biting her bottom lip. She didn't know how this night would affect her. This night could just be the reiteration of what she may never have again, and she didn't know how she could bear that. Santana opened her eyes and was just about to say no when she saw that Quinn was looking up at her pleadingly. Santana always lost her train of thought when she stared into Quinn's ever changing eyes. They were green tonight, but still had those brown freckles in her right eye that Santana absolutely adored. Finally she tore her gaze away, staring instead at the faded quilt beneath her.

"Fine, I'll stay." She could see the relief flood Quinn's face as she took Santana's hand and pulled her so they were laying back on the bed, on top of the covers. Quinn wordlessly melted into Santana's side, and the Latina wrapped an arm around Quinn gently. Santana stared at the ceiling, counting Quinn's heartbeats before she fell asleep, just like she always did.

Except this time, Santana lost count.

**A/N: So, I know I've left a lot of loose ends with the Brittany thing, and the Sam thing, but THOSE WILL BE COVERED, I PROMISE. Also, Quinn can remember some basic things, like that there is a God, and table manners, and that sort of thing. She just can't remember anything from high school, or friends, family, etc. Sorry if I'm upsetting any Brittana shippers, I just can't imagine a world where Brittany and Santana are still friends, but not dating. They are my OTP, after all. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. (: **


End file.
